


Are you, are you coming to the tree?

by Maewn



Series: Where Angels Fear to Tread (Demons Will Gladly Waltz) [6]
Category: The Conjuring (Movies), The Nun (2018)
Genre: Original Character Death(s), Witches, witch trials mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 10:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17303114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maewn/pseuds/Maewn
Summary: The wind is icy, whipping across the tiny town, through the crowd that gathers just outside its limits, beneath a tall oak where a wooden scaffold stands, ominous in the dawn.





	Are you, are you coming to the tree?

The wind is icy, whipping across the tiny town, through the crowd that gathers just outside its limits, beneath a tall oak where a wooden scaffold stands, ominous in the dawn.

Most of the town is here to see a witch hang, the rest are either in prison themselves or watching over the prison.

From the edge of the crowd, Prudence watches the girl, Mary, trembling at the scaffold, her white dress fluttering in the wind. Tangled brown hair ghosts about her pale shoulders, blue eyes wide and fearful.

She’s seventeen and foolish, barely allowed to start her life before it must now end.

She’s brave, but bravery matters not when faced with human terror and fear of the unknown.

Prudence smiles beneath her hood, green eyes fixed on the figure who will drop from the scaffolding in mere moments, and then Prudence will catch that tainted soul, savor its sweetness, devour it with relish.

Mary sees her, screams in terror, and faints. She’s revived none too gently with water minutes later and Prudence is beside her, watching.

_Are you afraid?_  Prudence whispers, for Mary’s ears alone.

She only whimpers in answer.

Gone is the bravado, the brave face worn as a mask to protect herself from this crowd of humanity set astray.

Prudence wraps her arms around Mary’s shoulder’s, unseen and unfelt by any save the girl who shakes as the noose tightens.

“Any last words, lass?” the hangman asks.

“I didn’t mean any harm,” Mary whispers. “I didn’t.”

The hangman nods, reaching for the lever, and Mary closes her eyes.

Prudence kisses her cheek. _Come into my lair, said the spider to the fly. And you walked so willingly into my arms, dear child._

The floor drops beneath them, and they plunge down as Prudence cackles, Mary’s neck mercifully snapping, a quick death, as her soul flies free from her still moving corpse that dances on the end of a rope.

Prudence snatches it, landing beneath the scaffold and walking away, savoring her prize, sipping at the deliciousness that is a soul corrupted.

She hums, a low keen that makes the birds in the forest take flight in fear. There will be more accusations in the future, more executions, more souls polluted by desperation and fear and religious fervor.

She smiles, a grin that has far too many teeth, sharp and delighted.

_After all, she will make sure of it._


End file.
